Friday: After receiving last minute notice, I attended an all-day conference in DC with my boss. I began the day by squeezing my car into an impossibly small parking spot that was located farther from the Metro station than my apartment itself. After purchasing my SmartTrip card, I tried repeatedly to shove it into the farecard slot on the entrance turnstile, until a kind woman behind me noted my complete ignorance and sweetly told me to just swipe my card over the enormous, glowing SmartTrip icon on the top of the turnstile. Right.
The conference was actually rather informative, although I chewed an entire pack of bubblegum and drank two cups of coffee, one glass of water, and two bottles of Diet Coke in hopes that satisfying my oral fixation would also somehow prevent death by boredom. My boss played with his Blackberry and periodically scribbled illegible notes that probably said things like, “gosh, I sure do love bagpipes.”
The day concluded with a lengthy question and answer session that left me searching for ways to kill myself with the remains of my boxed lunch. It never ceases to amaze me that there are people who don’t realize how fucking obnoxious and socially unacceptable it is to continue asking questions when they are all that is standing between the entire group and the freedom of a Friday afternoon. Have you ever heard that saying, “The only stupid questions are the ones you don’t ask”? Sorry, but that’s a lie. Your questions are stupid, and you really need to stop talking.
Saturday: In honor of Final Four day, I wore my newly-acquired Mason shirt. Before hitting the bars to watch the big game, I ran a few errands that ended with a stop at Target. It was there that a woman approached me and, seeing my shirt, asked, “As in George Mason?”
I could only stare blankly, before slowly answering in the affirmative. Paul later informed me that I should have cleverly replied, “No, as in like Mason jars. Because I love storing things.”
The plan for the evening was to go watch the game at Buffalo Wing University in Fairfax. Caitlin was supposed to come to my apartment at five, and I was going to drive us from there. At 5:50pm, Caitlin’s father called me to tell me that Caitlin had been in a car accident, and while she was not injured, her car was significantly damaged. Being a normal, caring friend, I panicked, grabbed my purse, and sprinted out the door to go rescue her.
As I flew down the steps, I realized that she was standing at the bottom, laughing hysterically. Because I have the response time of a sloth, I tearfully gasped, “ARE YOU OKAY?!?” It was then that I realized that she was laughing because it was April Fool’s Day, and I had definitely been made to look like a fool. I warned her about the story of the boy who cried wolf, and told her that the next time I got such a call, I was going to hang up the phone, pour a glass of wine, and go back to watching America’s Next Top Model.
The night itself was a lot of fun, although we spent upwards of an hour waiting in line to get into the bar. By the time we were permitted to enter, we had witnessed one guy getting thrown out, one girl sobbing, and one man getting arrested after being smashed into a little stuffed animal vending machine. We also received free Mason shirts because a random person took pity on us for standing at the back of the line. Personally, I thought it was an hour exceptionally well spent.
Sunday: Because I was hungover and completely exhausted, it seemed perfectly reasonable to go hiking with Caitlin at Great Falls this afternoon. We stumbled onto an area with a number of rock climbers, and upon seeing one climber scale a wall sans ropes with the ease of a mountain goat, decided that I should hike to the base of the wall and try that same feat myself. Caitlin and my dog were going to wait at the top to cheer me on/wait for me to fall. In theory, this idea was exciting and daring.
In actuality, this idea was terrible. When I reached the base of the wall forty vertical feet below Caitlin, I realized that perhaps I had been a bit optimistic. The other climbers nearby told me that I was crazy, and that I should absolutely not try this without the security of ropes. As with any other challenge, this strengthened my desire to complete the task, and I began fumbling my way up the wall. Caitlin urged me on, reassuring me that if I fell, she’d at least be certain to laugh and take pictures.
Once I made it halfway up the wall, I was forced to conclude that I was insane and moments from plunging to my death, so I began to crawl unsteadily back down. Later in the afternoon, over the comfort of Baskin Robbins, I asked Caitlin if she really would have laughed if I had fallen. She paused thoughtfully and answered, “Well, I most likely would at first – just out of shock. I’d gasp and laugh a little, and then the truth of the situation would sink in.” I guess I can understand – if I had to watch my pale, scrawny body flailing through the air before bouncing off boulders, I’d probably laugh too. And then I would die, and that would be unfortunate.
